Concrete Angel
by 3detectives1writer
Summary: More fluff for MuseumHeistIsMyOT3. Another song fic. AU


The loft is dimly lit by a single lamp. A man rummaged through the shelves desperately looking for something. He threw his old manuscripts behind him not caring where they landed.

He finally found it. He pulled the box out from the very back of the shelf before carefully setting it on the floor. He blew off the dust coating the lid before he carefully removed it from the top of the box.

He took out the contents like they were made of glass. A bunch of old letters tied together with some twine, a box that was a time capsule, a packet of some sort, a journal, and a photo album was in it. He carefully set the things down onto the floor before he took the album in his hands. He hesitated to untie the perfect bow keeping it closed.

He noticed something sticking out of the journal. He set the album down and grabbed the journal. He opened it, and the worn pages crinkled. He pulled out the object that was sticking out of it before he closed the journal and placed it back on the floor.

It was a photograph. Like the rest of the box's contents, it was old and worn. It was taken by an old camera because it was in black and white. It was a picture of a young boy and girl laughing and hugging each other.

` Alexis and her grandmother came down the stairs only to find him on the floor. He had various objects surrounding him. She'd never seen it before, but judging by the manuscripts thrown across the room, she wasn't supposed to find out.

She noticed a picture in his hand. She noticed the way he looked at it. She never saw this expression on his face, but she recognized it. Love.

She caught a glimpse of it when he turned it around. A young boy and girl had their arms around each other, and they were smiling and laughing. It was taken a long time ago since it was black and white and slightly yellowed with age.

Alexis was just about to speak when her grandmother stopped her. "Just wait," she said. Alexis nodded, and they went to spy on him behind the bookcases.

He repacked the contents and got up. He took the box and walked to his desk. He sat in his chair, placed the box beside his laptop, and pulled a whiskey bottle from his stash in a drawer.

Alexis was about to say something when again Martha stopped her. "Just let him. The bottle's only half full," she said. "Why is he doing this?" Alexis asked. "You'll see soon enough," Martha replied.

He slowly emptied the bottle as he looked through the contents of the box. He read every word, looked at every photograph. He slowly drank himself to sleep despite it being only afternoon.

He dreamt about her. A song played through his, something that was on Alexis' iPod. It reminded him about her too much that it burned into his mind.

_She walks to school with the lunch she packed  
Nobody knows what she's holding back  
Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday  
She hides the bruises with the linen and lace, oh_

He was six years old when he met her. He was Ricky Rodgers then, not Rick Castle. He lived with his mother in a town house in New York.

A girl lived next door to them. Her parents had died in a car accident, and she was living with her grandparents. They seemed nice when he met them.

And she was beautiful. She had long chestnut hair in perfect curls and breathtaking hazel-green eyes. Her smile could light up any room, and her laugh was music to his ears. She loved comic books, science fiction, mystery thrillers, everything he liked.

She wasn't like most girls. Sure, she did like things mostly boys liked, but that wasn't it. She was a mystery, and even at six, he was determined to solve it.

They had other friends too. They were a group, three girls and three boys. He was close with them too but never as close as he was with her.

He noticed that she wore the same dress to school a few days in a row. He noticed how her lunch looked like she had packed it. It took him a while to befriend her. He saw bruises on her arms. He didn't think much of it at six, but he wish he had.

_The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask_

_It's hard to see the pain behind the mask_

_Bearing the burden of a secret storm_

_Sometimes she wishes she was never born_

He knew the teacher noticed the bruises. He screamed at her when she didn't do something about it later that month. She always seemed okay when he talked to her. They'd share lunch every day since all she'd packed was a sandwich. He later read in her journal how she wished she was never born.

_Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone_

_In a world that she can't rise above_

_But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place_

_Where she's loved concrete angel_

He always admired how strong she was. Even when she busted open her knee one day, she didn't cry. She'd often spend the night at his house and leave before he woke up. She wrote about her dreams in the journal. He'd given that to her for her birthday.

_Somebody cries in the middle of the night_

_The neighbors hear but they turn out the light_

_A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate_

_When morning comes it will be too late_

_Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone_

_In a world that she can't rise above_

_But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place_

_Where she's loved concrete angel_

One night, she was about to climb out her window to go over to his where he was waiting. He saw her grandmother come and grab her. He didn't think of it as much; he just waited for her to come up with an excuse.

Then he heard screaming and the sound of punches being thrown. He heard her crying out his name. He grabbed his baseball bat and jacket and got out of there. He ignored his mother asking him what's wrong, and he jumped out of his window, hoping he wasn't too late.

He was. The cries died down until all that could be heard was the punches. The paramedics and police arrived moments later since he'd called them using the house phone in his room. He watched them arrest her grandmother, and the paramedics wheeled her out of the house. He jumped into the ambulance despite his mother's wishes. He held her hand and whispered soothing things, praying that she would live.

_A statue stands in a shaded place_

_An angel girl with an upturned face_

_A name is written on a polished rock_

_A broken heart that the world forgot_

She didn't last the night. They held her funeral the very next day. Their friends and their parents were there. Her grandpa was there, blaming himself for not being there to stop his wife. He was there with his mother, dressed in a black suit with that blue shirt she loved so much. He placed a bouquet of her favorite flowers on her grave. The tears started to stream down his face and he ran.

_Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone_

_In a world that she can't rise above_

_But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place_

_Where she's loved concrete angel_

A few weeks later, her grandpa left him the box. He flipped through the contents once before he shoved it to the back of his closet. Throughout his life, he never forgot her. Sure, he dated other girls (hell, he's been married and divorced twice), but he never loved them like he loved her.

He woke up with a plan on mind. He was still drunk, but that didn't stop him. He left the loft and took a taxi to a flower shop. He bought a bouquet of her favorite flowers and headed for the cemetery.

He remembered the way despite never visiting all these years. He nodded in greeting to her parents when he passed them. He knelt to his knees beside her grave, carefully placing the flowers by the headstone, before he broke down.

"Who is she?" Alexis whispered to her grandmother. They followed him and were now hiding behind a tree. "His first love, Katherine Houghton Beckett. She lived next door to us with her grandparents, Henry and Victoria Prior. They had a daughter named Johanna. She died in a car accident along with her husband, Jim Beckett, and they had a daughter named Kate who fell to their custody.

"Anyway, they were best friends along with Lanie Parish, Javier Esposito, Kevin Ryan, and Jenny Scott Duffy O'Malley, now Ryan. I'd often find her and your father sleeping on his bed when I went to check on him. Now, they were only six, so they didn't do _that_.

"One night, I went to check on Richard, but he jumped out his window holding a baseball bat. I heard the police and the paramedics pull up to the house, and he jumped into the ambulance with the girl despite my wishes. She died that night. He never got over her," Martha explained.

"Oh dad," Alexis whispered. "Do you know how you got your name?" Martha asked. "Yeah, Alexis for his former middle name, Alexander, and Harper for Harper Lee, the novelist," she replied. "That's only what he led you to believe. He said that in the journal he gave her, she wrote that she would name her daughter Alexis, and her middle name would be Harper after her mother's," Martha explained.

"Don't cry," a voice said. He whipped his tears and looked up. He doubled back when he saw her. She was older now, about his age, but he'd recognize her anywhere.

"Katie," he whispered. "Hello, Ricky," she replied, smiling at him. "How?" he asked. "It's complicated," she replied.

"You're so beautiful," he blurted out. She really was. Her chestnut curls were flawless. Even though she was about forty, she aged beautifully. She wore a long slivery dress that highlighted her curves.

She laughed. He didn't know how much he missed it until he heard it. "You're not so bad yourself, Ricky," she replied.

He smiled through his tears. "You were beautiful when you were six, and you're even more so now. I would've married you if it weren't for-" "I know. I pictured a life with you, Rick," she replied. "I never got over you. You were-are-my first and only love," he said. "I could tell when you named your daughter Alexis Harper," she said. "I wanted to honor you somehow. She thinks she's named after me and Harper Lee, the novelist, but-" "She knows now. Martha explained to her. They're right behind those trees," she said.

He turned and spotted them there. He glared at his mother, but her look told him that it was for the best. He turned back to see Kate smiling in amusement at him.

She looked behind her. "I have to go. My parents are waiting," she explained. "No, Kate, please don't leave me, not again," he pleaded. Tears streamed down his face.

She knelt down in front of him. "I won't be gone forever. I'll be that small clear voice in your heart that will be with you, always. I'll see you again when it's your time, but I don't want to see you soon. You still have a life to live, and your daughter and mother need you," she commanded.

All he could manage was a nod. He saw her face relax into a smile. Before he registered what was happening, he felt her lips on his own. That couldn't be possible since she was dead, but they felt real enough. Her lips were soft, and the kiss was chaste.

It ended too quickly for his liking. He watched her get up, walking into the distance. His mother and daughter came to his side just as she turned and waved to him before she was gone.


End file.
